Farflung: Yes, both father and son have miscalculated and misread each other. The 'honeymoon' of the reunion is over. Remarkable, really, that the halcyon period lasted as long as it did.
Melissa: Yes, Thranduil's reaction will be a mix of fury and fear—but more the latter because he genuinely loves both his son and his nephew.
Pallas Analise: I'm glad you found the interactions convincing even though they were not the ones you expected.
Joee: True, Legolas simply could not be expected to remain quietly at the Great Hall, even if he should have.
Athena Diagon Cat: The semester has drawn to a close, so I've had a little more time for writing than usual. That's why I've been posting so frequently. It won't last. *~* Yes, I do compress distances—and the time frame as well. Poetic license, if you will.
Dragonfly: No, it was not wise for Legolas to run off like that. For all his experiences, he is still is some ways a very young Elf.
Elrond and Glorfindel were within, in earnest discussion with Saruman, whilst Elladan, Elrohir, and Thoron waited impatiently upon the steps of Orthanc.
"I want to be out searching for Mithrandir," complained Elrohir. "I do not understand what delays us."
Patiently, and not for the first time, Thoron explained.
"Saruman wants us to ride south, to carry a message to the Rohirrim. Your father and Glorfindel want to remain here, in Fangorn, to participate in the ambush that Saruman is devising."
"Why cannot Saruman send some of his own servants as messengers?"
"He says he has none on hand who are fluent in the Common Speech."
"Huh," scoffed Elladan. "What do they speak then—Quenya!?"
The three young Elves laughed at the thought of Saruman's Man servants going about their daily chores speaking in the High Elven tongue. Then Thoron sobered.
"I wonder," he said softly, "what they do speak, if not the language common to the Men of the West."
"And I wonder," added Elrohir, "where these servants are. We have scarcely seen anyone other than Saruman since our arrival at Isengard."
"Perhaps they are out on patrol," suggested Thoron.
"I suppose," agreed Elrohir, "but do you not find it odd that a Lord of such high rank should dwell in this grand fortress with only a handful of servants at his beck and call?"
"He is a wizard, Elrohir," Thoron pointed out. "The Istari are different from you and me. Mayhap if he desires a dish, all he need say is 'make it so', and, poof, a meal is laid out for him."
"You've gone altogether potty, Thoron," chortled Elrohir, "either that, or you've been reading those books Legolas is so fond of, those ones in which Men rely upon magic powders and spells to disappear and reappear."
"But he is a wizard," said Thoron stubbornly. "That's got to mean something, doesn't it? What's the good of being a wizard if you have got to cook your supper in the same fashion as any other creature who walks upon two legs?"
"Except Orcs," Elladan observed, "who do not cook their suppers at all!"
"Look you," said Elrohir, "have you ever seen Mithrandir wave his staff over a deer in order to dress it?"
"No," retorted Thoron, "because whenever you or I or anyone else is about, we are the ones who have to dress the deer!"
"Now that's magic for you," observed Elrohir slyly. "You have proved your case, Thoron. The Istari are different from you and me."
Thoron had to laugh at the turn that the argument had taken.
"Oh, very well, Elrohir. I yield to your superior intellect."
Elladan snorted.
"Superior intellect, indeed! I am laughing at your superior intellect."
"Oh, and why?"
"Because, for all your chattering, you still haven't come up with an adequate explanation to account for the scarcity of servants. No, nor you, Thoron!"
Elladan had spoken in a light-hearted fashion, but the other two Elves quieted. As they sat silently, Elrohir suddenly shivered.
"Are you cold, Elrohir?" Thoron asked.
"No—yes—a little."
"I'm cold, too," said Elladan softly.
The three Elves drew closer to one another and stared about at the grim walls that surrounded the fortress of Isengard.
Whilst this debate had been taking place, Saruman had been unrelenting in his attempts to persuade Elrond to ride further south and to take all his companions with him. It was the matter of the servants that troubled him. As soon as the wizard had received word of the approach of the Elves, he had of course sent his Orcs and half-goblins into hiding. He intended, however, to use these creatures against the interloper from Mordor, and he couldn't very well do so if Elrond and the others were present. Hence the Istar's eagerness that the Elves should depart at once.
"There is always the possibility," he had pointed out, "that Mithrandir and his captor have already slipped past Fangorn. If so, the Men of Rohan needs must be brought into the hunt."
At first, Elrond had strenuously resisted Saruman's suggestion that the Elves be the ones to carry the news to the Rohirrim. He thought it unlikely that captor and prisoner had yet made it this far south—nothing of the sort had been reported to Saruman—and it was his desire to be on hand when his friend's rescue was effected. Glorfindel was of the same mind.
"I understand your feelings, my friends," Saruman had assured them, "but would it not be wise to put personal preferences aside in a matter such as this? You should not like to find that Mithrandir had been dragged helpless across the plains of Rohan because you had tarried here in vain hopes of intercepting our missing friend and his captor. I am sure you would not! Nay, you must take advantage of your friendship with the Rohirrim and your ability to speak one tongue in common."
At last Elrond relented somewhat and proposed sending the younger Elves. Saruman looked at him gravely.
"Would that be wise, my friend? In these perilous times, would it not be better if a group of five ventured forth rather than a group of three? I am sure you would not wish to receive word that it is now your own sons who have been seized!"
In the end, Elrond yielded, albeit reluctantly. He and his companions would ride south at once and inform the Rohirrim of what had transpired. If the marauder and his victim were anywhere within the land of Rohan, they would be found out, for the Riders would search every inch of their territory.
When Elladan, Elrohir, and Thoron were informed, they were disappointed that they were not to participate in the ambush, but they could not help but be happy that they were departing from Isengard. Thus it was that two unwilling and three willing Elves rode rapidly out from Isengard.
As soon as they were out of sight, Saruman ordered that his Orcs and half-goblins to return to their stations. From a dozen hidden crevasses, these creatures crawled forth. Saruman drew aside the half-goblins—they had been bred to be leaders, after a fashion—and he quickly explained what they must do.
"I want every available archer hidden on the western border of Fangorn. No doubt a fell creature such as this one will favor journeying in the dark and gloomy margins of the forest over riding in the sunshine on an open plain. He will draw nigh, I am sure. Tell the archers to aim for his mount, for I suspect that the creature himself may not be brought down by arrows. And have a care that your archers do not shoot the creature's prisoner. I want him alive—and unharmed! No playing with him, do you understand!? But do not untie him if he is bound—as he no doubt is. And if his eyes are covered, leave the blindfold be as well. Bring him to me exactly as you find him."
The half-goblins scurried off and, marshalling the Orcs, made for the western border of Fangorn, taking up positions from whence, well hidden, they could peer across the plain.
Their wait would be a long one, for Gandalf and his captor had not been making good time. The wizard could not cease shivering and sweating, and his captor had been forced to make camp several times. On the latest occasion, he had loosed Gandalf's feet but had bound him with his back to a tree. Gandalf began to feel comfortably warm, and he suspected that his captor was not near. He began to struggle again to stretch the ropes that secured his wrists. At length, however, he once more sat perfectly still, for the air grew cold and he knew that his captor approached. He heard no footsteps, but suddenly, and not too far off, something heavy was dropped upon the ground. He heard the sound of a blade being drawn from its sheath, and then he smelled blood.
"Ah," he thought, "my friend has gone hunting and is now dressing some animal or another—at least, I hope it is an animal. The alternative is too dreadful to contemplate."
By and by the wizard smelled smoke and then heard the sizzle of meat cooking upon the spit. In spite of his plight, he could not help but appreciate the savory odor that soon arose—venison, he was quite sure. That was a great relief to his mind, for he was sure his captor would be vexed if he refused to eat, but he had meant to so refuse if there were any doubts regarding the nature of the meat.
As it was, Gandalf was right. Venison. To allow him to eat, his captor released the ropes that held him to the tree, and then, the Valar be praised, he untied the wizard's wrists as well. Even though his hands were free, Gandalf did not try to pull off his blindfold. He knew from the coldness of the air that his captor stood before him as he ate, and he had no desire to provoke him. Still, he felt better after eating—his captor let him eat his fill—and his spirits rose. The only thing that troubled him was that he had managed to loosen the ropes around his wrist slightly, but now his captor would rebind him as tightly as ever. All his labor had been for naught. Still, what was it Men said? Where's there's life, there's hope? Well, he now felt very much alive. It was a long way to Mordor, and he would contrive to escape long before they neared that land.
After the wizard had eaten, his captor did not go so far as to allow him to 'step behind a tree', but Gandalf did take the opportunity to relieve himself of a problem that had grown rather pressing. "Ah," he sighed, "a few more hours of bouncing about upon a horse, and I am sure I would have disgraced myself like an elfling just put into leggings and not quite adjusted to those new garments. Wonder what my friend here would have made of that. Probably would not have perturbed him in the least. Has nerves of ice, that one. Hah hah."
Gandalf's humorous reflections were now peremptorily interrupted by said individual, who pushed his prisoner down to the ground, rebound his wrists behind his back, tied his feet, and checked to see that his blindfold was secure. Gandalf sighed.
"You are thorough, I'll give you that," he muttered.
The wizard then froze, so to speak, as he felt his captor pause beside him. Apparently, however, the creature did not want to bring on any further delays because no icy pains shot through the body of the prisoner. Instead, the wizard felt the blanket descend upon his body. "My tongue will be the death of me," muttered Gandalf as his captor moved away. "Galadriel said something to that effect sometime. Should have listened to her. Well, well, nothing to be done about it now. Best sleep. Need to keep up my strength." With that, the wizard, who himself could be said to have 'nerves of ice', allowed himself to drift into dreams, which if not altogether pleasant, were at least less nightmarish than the situation in which he found himself during his waking hours.
Whilst Gandalf was taking his reasonably comfortable rest, at the Great Hall, on the other hand, no one was getting any rest at all.
"Search again," Thranduil was roaring at Gilglîr. "I want every inch of the Hall o'erlooked. Turn out the wardrobes! Rip the linen from the beds! Empty the larders! Up-end every barrel, every chest! I want my son, and I want him now!"
Legolas' absence had been discovered upon the arrival of the guests from Rivendell, for Legolas had been summoned to greet them. The servant sent to fetch him had been told by the guards that the Prince had left his chamber in the company of his cousin and had not yet returned. As the messenger had just come from the presence chamber, where Tawarmaenas stood beside his uncle exchanging pleasantries with the visitors, it was immediately and inescapably apparent to the messenger that Legolas was no longer in the company of his cousin. Alarmed, the Elf hastened back to inform the King. Meanwhile, as soon as the servant had left on his errand, Tawarmaenas had begun sidling toward the guests from Imladris. By the time the servant burst into the presence chamber, Tawarmaenas was safely in the middle of the visitors, standing behind Erestor and between Estel and Celaithand.
"Left his room with Tawarmaenas but is not with him now?" Keeping his anger in check, Thranduil looked about the room, at last spying his nephew where he stood amongst the visitors.
"Tawarmaenas!"
"Yes, Uncle."
"Where is Legolas?"
"I last saw him in the wine cellar."
"The wine cellar?"
"Aye, Uncle, the wine cellar."
Thranduil relaxed a little.
"Well, it is not the best way to deal with life's vexations, but Legolas will not be the first Elf to have drowned his sorrow in wine—and uncommonly good wine, too." Thranduil turned to the servant. "Go to the wine cellar and fetch my son here. Carry him if you have to. It will serve him right if he has to appear before his friends in a disheveled state!"
The servant bowed and hurried off. Of course, he returned before too long to report that Legolas was not in fact in the wine cellar.
"Tawarmaenas!"
"Yes, Uncle."
"Do you know where Legolas is?"
"No, Uncle."
Like several young Elves before him, Tawarmaenas was of course telling the truth. He now did not know where Legolas was, at least not to an exactitude. It was at this point that an exasperated Thranduil ordered the general search of the Great Hall that had proved to be so fruitless. In a rage, Thranduil was now ordering a second search of the Hall. Before it could take place, however, Erestor thought it might be best if he offered the King a word of advice—diplomatically, of course.
"Ahem, your pardon, my Lord, but is it possible that Legolas is not in Hall?"
"How could he not be? The Door Warden had strict instructions not to let him set foot outside the Hall."
"Again, your pardon, my Lord. I do not wish to be presumptuous, but, as I was Legolas' tutor for centuries, I do have some experience in these matters. You must permit me to say that, if anyone could find a way to escape from a guarded hall, that anyone would be Legolas."
Thranduil considered Erestor's words for a moment and then turned his gaze upon Tawarmaenas, who trembled.
"Tawarmaenas son of Thalioncrist," thundered the King. This did not bode well. As every young Elf knows—aye! and every man-child, too—it is not good to be called out by one's full name.
"Um, yes, Uncle."
"When you last saw Legolas, was it his intention to remain in the wine cellar?"
This questions required an unambiguous 'yes' or 'no' and thus could not be evaded.
"No, Uncle."
"Where did he plan to go next—and I mean at that instant and not at some hypothetical point!?"
This question, too, could not be evaded.
"He planned to swim out the opening by which the barrels are brought to and fro the lading dock."
An awful pause.
"And did he?"
"Yes, Uncle—but do not fear! He has his weapons and his horse. He will come to no harm!"
"Gilglîr!"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Every Elf who can be spared from guard duty is to be horsed within the hour!"
"Aye, my Lord. 'Twill be done."
"I myself will ride. Have my horse prepared.'
"But, my Lord, you have guests."
"It seems to me," said Thranduil sourly, "that Tawarmaenas has insinuated himself into the 'heart' of our guests. He shall entertain them well enough, I am sure. Eh, Tawarmaenas, can I count upon you for that?"
"Yes, Uncle, I shall take very good care of our guests," replied Tawarmaenas meekly.
"See that you do, or I shall 'take very good care' of you!"
Thranduil swept from the room, followed by Gilglîr. The latter, however, paused a moment to wink at Tawarmaenas, who ventured a small smile in return.
When the King was gone, everyone in the room exhaled, not excepting Erestor.
"Well," said that Elf, "I think under some circumstances I had rather face an Orc than the King of Greenwood!"
"Oh, he is really quite nice," declared Tawarmaenas loyally. "'Tis true he has a royal temper—but I suppose that is alright, as he is a king."
Erestor smiled at the young Elf.
"I understand you are being trained to be Steward. You will be a good one, for it is plain that you care for naught but the welfare of others, including that of a King who can be fierce with you!"
"Thank you, my Lord."
"Oh, you needn't 'my Lord' me. Legolas certainly doesn't! But come. Tell me, what led Legolas to give Thranduil the slip? Would I be right in guessing that it has something to do with Mithrandir?"
"Yes, my Lor—Erestor. Even though he was told that Elves were searching for Mithrandir, he insisted on going out himself."
Erestor shook his head.
"Rash, Legolas. Too Rash," he muttered. "Well, we shall have to trust that Thranduil's Elves will retrieve him, or at least come in time to second him if he gets into trouble. Has he had much of a head start?"
"Only a few hours. But his horse is fast. I don't think there is a one faster."
Erestor sighed.
"Would that it were not so! No Elf should be gallivanting about on his own in these latter days."
"The Rangers go about on their own," piped up Estel, who had been quietly watching and listening to all that transpired. "And someday I shall be a Ranger and shall do so myself!"
"Ah," said Tawarmaenas, "you must be Estel. Legolas has told me many tales of your exploits. Perchance you have brought your dog?"
"No," scowled Estel. "I was not allowed. And if Gwaurant had been along," he added, shooting a hard glance at Erestor, "I am sure he would have barked, and then Mithrandir would not have been taken."
"You may be right," said Erestor thoughtfully, "although, if Mithrandir did not sense that a foe was near, then mayhap your dog would not have been able to either."
"Legolas would have known," said Estel. "The trees would have told him."
"That is undoubtedly true," replied Erestor. Legolas has an ability to sense danger that is uncanny even by Elven standards, and it is to be hoped that the trees and allied creatures will not let anyone creep up on him. Which is a comforting thought, now that he is out there on his own."
What Erestor did not realize, however, is that by now Legolas was in fact no longer 'on his own'.